Of the Bereft Mother and Favored Son
by Tenth Speed Writer
Summary: Mother nature has been fatally struck, and man is now nigh alone as lord of the culled, diseased world. The cries of the slain have been at last heard, and those butchered by they who draw from the force that has sapped worlds will have their vengeance.
1. An opening, The Operations Log

Author's Introduction:

I'm writing this story as a sort of hybrid between the gritty-yet-intriguing world of Command & Conquer and an almost fantasy-like plot line.  
I hope that this will appeal to a wider group of readers than either of these elements alone.

As fans of the latter may have little relation with the former, let me take a moment to describe the plot of this story so that the rest of it might make sense:

G.D.I., the Global Defense Initiative, is a former military union that has essentially become the main world superpower. They protect the few safe zones left on Earth zealously, and fight to combat the Brotherhood of Nod and the Tiberium threat. 

The Brotherhood of Nod is a crossbreed of a religion, a nationless government, a terrorist organization, and a military force. They've fought since even before the arrival of Tiberium under the lead of a man by the name of Kane, supposedly killed twice, who heads the brotherhood as a sort of Messiah. They grow their ranks by presenting G.D.I. to those in the unsafe yellow zones as oppressive and greedy. 

TIBERIUM, the main plot element of the series, is the basis for the Brotherhood of Nod, and the cause of all the world's problems. It's a generally green crystalline substance that is good for two things: Emitting assorted high-energy radiation, and perpetuating its self. It grows out of control, changing material on a molecular level and hideously mutating living tissue. The very presence of it has altered the Earth's atmosphere to a point where the planet is becoming distorted and unlivable. Nevertheless, all major powers depend on Tiberium as a resource, including the extraterrestrial Scrin, who had come to Earth after the chain reaction detonation of a special liquid Tiberium bomb, which falsely signaled them that the planet was taken over by the substance and suitable for harvest.

At the start of this story, the G.D.I. soldiers had only just pushed the unprepared Scrin work force off of earth by destroying their main method of control, using their superweapon, the space-based Ion Cannon.   
The story opens in the Italian "red" zone, near the original Tiberium meteorite impact site in the long dried, namesake, Tiber river bed. Log of Lt. Enderson; Field Commander of GDI Zone troop task force:  
Ruined Scavenger  
-Beta Platoon

Objective: Disruption of Nod Research and Recovery teams near Tiber river bed,  
Protection of research assets.

Italian Red Zone, Base Camp at grid Romeo Delta, Approximately 1.25 south-south east of Ground Zero

Invasion + 1m 31, 1200 Hours local time  
:: Twelve noon, and we've just now set down. The ride over here was hell. Ever since the cannon strike on Temple Prime blew Nod's little science project, the weather's gotten screwy all over this area, and that's before what those damned zap-feathers the aliens set up did. We had to dodge three or four minor ion storms just to get into the area, and it's sure not working in our favor. I did get a chance to look over the personnel during the flight, though. Some of these boys were here when they brought down that damned control thing-a-ma-jig the aliens had set up.

In fact, that's why we're here in the first place. Somehow, the Brotherhood is still working around here. They've been sending raiders into research outposts in the area to try and get their hands on some of this alien tech. Honestly, I'm amazed the bastards are organized enough to do much of anything like this. I guess it's like what Major Harris used to say. Nod was like a Hydra, it didn't matter if you cut off the head, it'd just grow two more and bite you in the ass.

Well, I don't know what they want, but command sure as hell doesn't want us to let them have it. As far as anyone knows, the ion cannon strike that the commander used to clear the buzzers out didn't leave much of the relay transmitter... whatever the hell it was left to look at, though it's pretty apparent there's something left. Probably below the surface, looking at all the dig equipment.

I've seen sonic emitters trolling up and down from the main base all morning. Hell, I'm not a Noddie, but it looks almost sacrilegious watching them clear out the river bed. I mean, this is the place where all of this mess started. You can tell it too, honestly. The clouds of Tib dust overhead are enough to block out the sun, yet for all of the radiation, even through the suits, it's blazing hot. It's wreaking hell on our equipment too…

Anyway, Sergeant Mora and I are getting ready to move out to monitor first patrol. Of course, Alpha and Charlie get to see some damned action hunting down the reds, while I get stuck on watch. I swear, I'd think General Granger

Italian Red Zone, Base Camp at grid Romeo Delta, Approximately 1.25 south-south east of Ground Zero

Invasion + 2m 1, 1500 Hours local time

I think the travel lag is starting to mess with me. Maybe my suit isn't sealed right. I don't know, but ever since setting down here, it feels like every bone in my body has started to hurt. Ah well, I bummed a hit of painkiller from first squad's medic when they checked in earlier.

ADD:  
1947 Hours local time

Apparently I'm not the only one who's feeling like shit. I was talking with Mora during mess, she tells me that P.F.C.'s Williams and Netschev are feeling the same way. The medic said that it's "entirely Tiberium-unrelated", though I really do have my doubts, especially out here in the middle of this hellscape.

Italian Red Zone, Base Camp at grid Romeo Delta, Approximately 1.25 south-south east of Ground Zero

Invasion +2m 2, 0700 Hours local time

I honestly think Mora worries too much… but then, isn't that what they pay your second in command to do? At her request, myself and the two other men, as well as two soldiers from third squad squad, are heading to the main base for a full medical physical. I can't be worried with this shit right now… fourth squad just located a series of tunnels those greened-up Noddies bored in a Tiberium glacier to the north, and second's taken over to investigate. Damned logistics won't get me that remote to go in and check it out, and I don't want to risk exposure that intense with any of my men.

Oh well. At least it's something better to worry about.

ADD:  
0735 Hours local time

Departing for main base now. First squad returned from their patrol just five minutes ago. Turns out they've got one of theirs with the same shit that we have. I have no damned idea what it could be, still. It must be something in the ration packs… but I can't seem to shake the feeling that it's something unnatural.

We'll know in an hour or so, anyway.

Italian Red Zone, Ground Zero HQ medical facility, near the Tiber River bed

Invasion +2m 3, 0400 Hours

Yeah, of course they'd want to keep us over night.

I swear, these medical eggheads aren't worth the chicken scratch they get paid. They said it was the "residual effects of low level Tiberium radiation exposure" and doped us up on whatever meds they felt like. Hell… as messed up as my head is right now, I think they get paid commission for every pill they make us pop.

Either way, I can't be assed to stay. It turns out I was right about those mutated fucks hiding in that glacier. I didn't think they'd begun to put their spec ops through that sort of hell, but sure shit, three of those Black Hand ops, shining like daylight, went and dug into the thing like a bunker. The radiation inside their little hole is twice what our zone suits are fixed to handle, so second squad has had to set up a perimeter to wait 'em out.

There's work to be done. I trust Sergeant Mora like a sister, but she's going to end up losing it trying to keep things organized in this mess.

I put a word in with the base commander. He's bailing me as soon as these meds wear off.

ADD:  
0913 Hours local time

It feels like I was hit with a truck, to be honest, but I took care of the mess.

The logistics office finally "came through" for me. Supply truck got here just after I did with a couple high-rad suits. It wasn't the remote I asked for, but at least it's something, I guess. I'm going in myself with Sgt. Kenley from second to see if we can't run the rat bastards out.  
Gah.. I wonder if he still has any of those old morphine stims left.

Video Log of Lt. Enderson, Invasion +2m 3, 1425 Hours  
Staging camp outside of Nod mutant bunker in Tiberium glacier 01103-B

"Thanks for the juice, Roger" the lieutenant said under his breath as he moved to seal the suit. The high-exposure model zone suits that he and his lone team mate had donned looked nothing less than gargantuan in comparison to the already bulky red-zone setup, inspiring wonder as to how they were able to move in the first place.

Sgt. Roger Kenly's suit hissed as the seals were engaged. He shot a salute over the trapezoidal faceplate to one of his men with his "lightly" gloved hand. "You're in charge until we return, Gregori. Keep the team in line, and listen out for reports from First and Fourth."

"Da', Sir. I'll hold the hovel" the PFC joked in response, the old figure of speech sounding a bit odd through his thick accent. The camera panned with Enderson's movement toward the gaping five meter hole in the massive green crystal some ways in the distance. Following his optics, it zoomed in closely for a moment, and retreated. "Let's get moving," he called out, his voice dropping to where it was audible only through their audio relay, "I've been waiting for a little action." He lifted his hefty pulse rifle from the ground, and began the march, the simulcast HUD showing the other trooper not far behind.

Following their cumbersome walk, the duo, now identified as "Detachment Able" by the readouts, set first foot onto the unnatural object. The Tiberian "glacier" as it was called, easily the size of its frozen cousin and flattened to a perfect hexagonal crystal, had clearly been taken by the soldiers of Nod. Their markings adorned the sloped entrance, and miscellaneous pieces of equipment had been strewn across the area, leftover when the ruined Brotherhood pulled out from Italy.

The innards of this impromptu temple were like a maze, probably formed as one of Nod's bizarre, almost religious rituals. Nevertheless, the high-powered sensor packs of the suits, despite the more-than-lethal levels of radiation, were enough to establish a thermal lock onto the trio of Nod agents who had retreated into here. Detachment Able followed as any sweep and clear operation would, checking every turn, watching every corner as they made their way to the sizable antechamber where their target waited. The eerie, mortal glow of the raw Tiberium structure was cut sharply by a suffusion of purple, cast from a definite source. It was unclear just what freakish artifact the men had horded into this place, but they had laid themselves prostrate on the ground, probably praying to it.  
"Make no move for your arms and surrender!" Kenly blasted through the audio from behind Enderson. Standard GDI procedure, though he really didn't expect them to  
do so. Nod's lost little boys jumped to arms, just as Enderson and his comrade raised their own.

They barely had a chance to open fire. Kenly's mass driver skewered the half-crouched man on the far side, while his partner's first hail of rounds left little remaining of another. The third man shot to his feet just as the rail gun reached its full charge and turned to face its new target.

The silvery beam shot in an instant, easily decapitating the zealot it was meant for. Unfortunately, this shot had been very badly placed. Enderson had made an attempt to move aside the weapon, but it had been too late. It directly skewered the enigmatic purple disc in the center of the chamber, and a wave of blue-purple energy washed through the chamber. Kenly was thrown to the ground before Enderson's eyes as it passed, and the video feed its self cut out.

Italian Red Zone, Ground Zero HQ medical facility, near the Tiber River bed

Invasion +2m 4, 1230 Hours

I… honestly have no idea what happened. I think Kenly shot a round through… whatever that thing was. After that… I must have come to for a moment. I can still see Kenly… god, it's burned in. Must've crawled back out front…

Log pauses 19s while speaker recomposes

Doc Franks came in a minute ago. Said I ought'a be dead as him right now. The resonators blew on my suit, along with half the en-seals. Yeah. All of that and getting my ass blown up inside a half million fucking ton hunk of Tiberium, I can understand why he's a little surprised I'm here. They ran some tests while I was out… when second squad found me outside, there was Tiberium growing on my damn suit, but they say I'm clean as I went in. Hell…. I feel better than when all this shit started.

Whatever happened… it did something to me. I have no clue in hell just what, but there's something not right here. GDI HQ is calling me back, sticking Terra in charge…Wait…

A background conversation overlaps the voice log, between Lt. Reginald F. Enderson and Sgt. Terra R. Mora  
ADD:

What in the hell…

Mora says that when the device went, the others who had whatever hit me… just dropped dead. I.. don't understand it, they were the strongest men in this platoon, how did…

God, I need a cigarette.


	2. Dreaming

The room seemed to be washed in a suffusion of pure white, the white of a medical ward, broken only by the rare red or yellow of labels and wrappers, and the fleshed tones of other patients, healing just as well. Only, there were no others, and this was far from a medical ward, at least in function.

Reginald held his head in his hands, braced with legs against the rails of the barren hospital cot. He sat in quiet contemplation this way on the edge of his bed for as long as they would let him be. For fifteen years, since the ruins of the second war, he'd served the Global Defense Initiative as loyally and dutifully as could be asked from any man, any soldier, any commander; this was the way they repaid him. Of course he was unharmed after the accident, but why?

It was a question he had stopped asking himself. It was like anything else connected with the enigmatic crystals; there was simply no answer to be found. The blast that should have killed him, the exposure that would have roasted him alive, the wounds that might have slain anyone else, not one of them them had left so much as a mark. The best guess he had was some freakish mutation stacked on top of a miracle. Pretty soon, Tiberium crystals would shoot from his back, his body would twist and contort, and they'd toss him out like trash. He was mutating, why else would they lock him in the containment ward; but then, after almost four days, why wasn't he a shiner already?

Never mind that, though. He hadn't slept a moment since they decided to pull him out and set up all this mess.

The Lieutenant turned on his side and reclined on the stiff excuse for a bed, then throwing the pillow over his head to block out the blinding lights from above. Breathing a sigh, he stared off into the darkness and began to think to himself again. Disjointed images and passing questions for the better part, as sleepless as he was, but an old picture came to mind: a photograph of his family, just a year before. Probably sitting in the corner drawer of his… Terra's desk.

It was in the park, just in front of Goddard Space Centre, before the attack. All four of them together, smiling ear to ear. To the side, hand in hand with him, his wife, Ada. A funny blend of traits herself, half-Japanese, half-Hispanic, both bloods shining so distinctly in her features. She was a shorter sort, just a head over her son crouched below her. Sitting in front, legs crossed, their young daughter, little Julia, only seven, would be eight now. Her blond pig tails were half undone and drug against the ground she propped herself on, the same that dirtied her dress skirt; up above her stood the father of the family, Lt. Enderson himself. The sun gleaming from the badges on his uniform twisted the camera's picture just a bit, casting a tendril of glare over his right arm. His thick brown hair had been cleanly trimmed to a buzz cut for whatever that day's ceremonies had been, yet for the great presence of a military man, his smile shined, brighter than the badges, of a father, and a man with his world before him. Hovering over his younger sister stood the family's pride, Carlitos Reginald Franklin Enderson the Second. Carl, though, he was called. Both parents had a hand on the teen, a shoulder each. In him were his mother's grace, and his father's spirit, even in a photo, shining bright.

The Lieutenant dreamed awake for a moment of his son, recalling a letter from days back. He made a hero of himself up in Britain. When the aliens first struck London, he had taken lead of his drill team, as well as a number of the others, and helped them to reach the safety of the evacuation sites. Reginald regretted, more than ever, having missed the speech they had him read during the aftermath. He had scoffed at it as another move from the P.R. ministry to use the kids for more than they could be, but the truth was, it was the last shining moment he might ever have seen from his dear son, the only one left to him.

Changing his mind to keep from falling into that chain of emotion once again, he turned his thoughts back to the present. It was all he could have expected from the medical teams and researchers, a day of nothing but examinations, proceeding "protective confinement", but then, they had their reasons, didn't they? They to do everything to protect the people, even if it meant damning one of their own…

Ending that thought, the exhaustion finally grabbed hold of his mind, and sleep began to do its good work.

It was almost dreamless for a time. An image would cross of Roger, of what Sergeant Mora must have been trying to do at that moment, stuck still in that place, and not a clue why half of the people she had sworn to lead had been felled, maybe by nothing at all. Before long though, something else began to overwhelm him. He tossed and turned in place, struggling to shake off… a feeling maybe, like being smothered, and crushed.

And then it took form.

Reginald saw before him, an endless field of blue, jutting from blackened earth, what could only be ancient and mature Tiberium, and in the midst of it before him a being, formless, but so very present. He was now standing in a near perfect circle made in the toxic landscape. For what this was, the sky simply wasn't, only a passing thought of green clouds or dulled starlight.

The formless thing began to coalesce, taking an almost human shape. For the bland and dreamed world, it held chilling realness. Standing twice the height of a man, and almost floating in air, its arms spanned into… not quite wings, not quite anything, but they took off from the shoulder, and backed the creature against a field of shining, translucent silver. Its body was indistinct at first, almost like a child's drawing, yet the features of its face, those that there were, became very clear. An angel, it seemed, almost.

And it spoke.

The words that flowed from its mouth were gibberish, yet to the dreamer's ears, they became a voice, almost sung, not said; it was neither masculine nor feminine, high nor low, stressed nor meek, but only just within comprehension.

"You. Hew-man," it said, as if savoring the chance to say the word for the very first time, "Are you?"

Reginald blinked in disbelief. For a moment, it was almost as if it were not even of this dream, but something else. "What… do you mean, am I human? I… I am"

"Too soon," it said to its self. "Thank you."

"For… what?" he asked the being, unsure himself of to which he referred.

The being cocked its head to the side, almost questioningly. Reginald opened his mouth again, a million questions on tongue, but had not the chance to ask a single one. The entity before him turned its head toward the sky, laid its arms to the side, and vanished in a burst of light.

The blindness of it all manifested its self as dulled gray, naught but the underside of a pillow, and the world became reality once more. 


End file.
